


Changing Tracks

by Emony



Category: E.R.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emony/pseuds/Emony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trousers, a police box and a truck - the one thing they have in common? Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> First posted 17 May 2007

He'd read this book once that kept going on about the Trousers of Time... or maybe it was more than one book. Anyway, it was one Neela had left in the living room for over a week and he was bored and there was nothing on TV. He'd taken several more out of her room over the next few weeks when she wasn't looking.

Back to those trousers. Something about history being choices or choices being directions or something. Mainly, you had a choice in everything, for every choice there were trousers. One choice took you down one leg, the other down the second leg.

What would happen if you could go back to those trousers and put them on the right way round?

***

Ray stood on the side of the road outside of the bar. He wavered a little as he tried to keep upright. If this hadn't been the worst day ever, he didn't know what was. Wait. Hold on. That would be the last wedding he'd been to. Apparently weddings brought him bad luck.

He laughed to himself. _Right here and now, this is Ray Barnett - giving up on weddings._

He stepped into the road, and then back again avoiding a truck, or something. He looked at his phone as it rang, voicemail, Neela. Probably ringing to see if they could have _coffee_ or something.

_And we all know what that means._

He stepped out into the road, again.

Then everything faded to white.

***

Everything was about choices. You've got to make the right choice. From as small as do I wear my hair up or down to as big as do I move in with this man?

It was insane. The wankiest idea ever. What the hell was he thinking?

What the hell was _she_ thinking?

From as small as what socks to wear this morning to as big as do I marry this man?

***

He woke up. He wasn't where he thought he would be. He wasn't when he thought he would be.

The radio was playing on his nightstand. He laughed; it was playing their song. Well, it would have been their song if she had let it be.

_She's a woman  
You know what I mean  
You better listen, listen to me  
She's gonna set you free_

He hummed along to the words as he threw himself out of bed and into the hallway, heading for the bathroom. He stopped. There was no pain. He shrugged, must have been some bizarre alcohol induced dream again. No worse than the one where he'd dreamt he'd fallen in love with Gates and married him in Vermont under the falling leaves.

He shuddered and carried on towards the-

_Hold on._

What was that mug doing there? There was a mug he hadn't seen in months on the kitchen counter. He looked around the apartment.

_Something really isn't right here. Neela's stuff... it's all here._

He shuffled back into his room and grabbed his shift sheet.

_Holy Shit_

***

He went to work. He acted normal. Even if everything was not. He nearly did something manly that _wasn't_ fainting when he turned a corner and he was standing there, talking to one of the nurses.

Then something clicked, that was why the date had meant something to him.

It was _that_ day. He laughed. Stupid weddings.

He got on with his work.

***

She stood in surgery, listening to his words. Watching him. Watching everyone. Time to make a choice.

"No."

***

He leaned back against the sofa, took the beer Neela offered him, and laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Turns out it wasn't his choice or his trousers he needed to worry about.


End file.
